


Beyond Redemption

by terma_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-08-01
Updated: 1999-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:21:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26512825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terma_archivist/pseuds/terma_archivist
Summary: My answer to Ter/Ma's July/August challenge. The one about the pretty picture with the spiderweb and the old barn. Spoilers: Up to One Son
Relationships: Alex Krycek/Fox Mulder
Collections: TER/MA





	Beyond Redemption

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alicettlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [TER/MA](https://fanlore.org/wiki/TER/MA) and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2019. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [the TER/MA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/terma/profile).  
> TER/MA July 1999 Challenge. This month's challenge is coming a bit late, due to vacation, so feel free to respond in kind. As always, there is no deadline for responses and no limitations on length. The July challenge is to write a story inspired by the following artwork by our beloved Gayle. There are several elements in the picture, and you should incorporate as many as possible into the story. Hope you feel inspired!

**Beyond Redemption  
by Wicked Cherub**

It's you again. Of course you would turn up in the most unpredictable of places. An old farmhouse. I should have known. It's been a while since I've seen you, but I knew it was sooner or later before you cropped up again. You couldn't have died in the Consortium bonfire. You would never allow it. 

But even though you would never let such an atrocity happen, I've always known you were human. You get scared like anyone else. You make mistakes and you are mortal. One day, you will die, just like me, no matter how hard you try to survive. You told me once, "Fight, or die." One day, no matter how hard you fight, you _will_ die. And no one will be there to help you, to be your friend. It gives me satisfaction to know that you are like me, not above me, or better than me. It is sadistic, I know, but I take pleasure in seeing you hurt, because you are my enemy in human form. I cannot bash Old Spender. I could not punch the old men who were part of those crimes against humanity. But you, I can take out all frustrations on. And I am only a little ashamed of it. 

I had once believed that you could be redeemed. That you could think beyond saving your own ass and care for someone else. That that someone could be me. That night you were in my apartment and shocked me back into the fight, when you tried to tell me of the horrible things that were going to happen, I thought I could forgive you. I could forgive you of all the wrong you've ever caused, to me, to Scully, to everyone. 

I was so sad to hear you call me 'tovarisch' when I knew it could never be so. 

I never saw you again, and I wished that maybe, maybe you had turned over a new leaf and started a new life somewhere else. That since the Consortium was exposed, you had been able to shake free of all the burdens that weighed you down. I was ready to forget. And possibly forgive. 

Yet here you are. 

In flesh and blood and worn leather jacket. Your eyes are clear and for the first time in the 4 years I've known you, I realise they are green. You glare at me with those piercing eyes and it sends a shiver down my back. That crease in the bridge of your nose returns as you scowl at me even further. 

Why did it have to be you? 

Your gun is still pointed at the old lady's temple. The old lady, in her pink apron, is crumpled on the ground, sobbing incontrollably. I know she only started crying when I came. I have messed up your game and you are still glaring at me. I can see the wheels in your brain ticking over. How are you going to get out of this one? The woman is old, and innocent. Don't do it, Krycek. 

The full moon gave a surreal backdrop to the old farmhouse. It lends that superficial eeriness that is in B-Grade horror movies. The wind rustles through the leaves and the grass. Every thing seems so fake, so ethereal, that I think maybe it is a dream. To get a call from Skinner in the middle of the night, telling me to go to a farm in West Virginia was unusual. To learn that I had to save a little old woman was even more strange. And now, like a nightmare, you would turn up. The realisation hits me in the stomach. 

It is not a dream. I am strong, I am more of a man than you are and I can stop all this. 

"What do you want, Krycek? And what did you do to Skinner?" My voice sounds arrogant and it masks the quivers I feel. 

"Mulder, you shouldn't have come." You almost sound desperate. What is happening? You cock your gun and the woman stops crying immediately, only letting a few whimpers escape from her mouth. Obviously, your rules have been set. But I can play your game. I've been playing it for four years. 

"Why not? Scared I'll mess up your little game?" I move a little closer to you and pull out my own gun. But my finger trembles on the trigger. 

"Simply because you are too late." You shoot her straight through the head. I hear myself scream, "NO!!!" as I lunge and fire at you. You are thrown back at my shot but I didn't seem to hurt you. Maybe you _are_ immortal. You run. I reach the lady on the ground, who's head is a huge coagulated mass of red blood. Why would you kill her? I flip her over, to check the back of her neck for implants. 

"Fuck you, Mulder!" I hear you exclaim before agonising pain at the back of my head. You had hit me with your gun, but not hard enough to kill me. I manage to whirl around and hit you in the leg with my own gun, causing you crash to the ground next to me. My head feels like it wants to explode. But with a click, your gun is at my head again. 

Krycek, why? 

"I said you were too late, Mulder. Too late for everything. There are things that you should not know. Your life will be better off without knowing." You answer my question even though I did not ask. Or did I? I cannot remember. The throbbing in my skull is excruciating as I lay on the ground. You move closer to me, limping on the leg where I hit you. I notice now, that I had shot you through your prosthesis. You are still human. 

"Krycek, I can help you. Witness protection..." 

"You cannot help me. I am beyond that." You husky voice sounds sad, and your eyelids drop. I almost feel sorry for you. You look at me with those kind eyes and smile a small smile, reminiscent of the last time we met. "Do you see that spiderweb over there, Mulder?" You point to a shimmering web between grass blades. It adds to the unreal nature of tonight. My headache is abating. Slightly. "I'm like a fly in that web. The more I resist, the more I fight, the more tangled I get. The more trapped I am. It's no use..." Your voice trails off and my heart aches for you too. Why is it that we always have these discussions at gunpoint? 

"But didn't you once tell me, fight, or die? Resist, or serve? You can't give into them like this. That web, whoever or whatever they are, will break. One day." 

"It doesn't work like that anymore." You whisper. I reach out to touch your face, where a tear has left it's trail. You are so beautiful, your eyelashes so long. 'The inextricable relationships in our lives that are neither accidental nor somehow in our control.' I've pondered that statement for over a year now. And now our relationship is just more confused. Why are you caught up in this? We are equal—you are like me, how did we end up leading such different lives? I have no control over my connection with you. Yet I would never give it up. Maybe the word 'tovarisch' isn't such an impossibility after all. I let out a sigh. 

You grab my hand and place it on your groin. "You feel this?" I am surprised to feel a growing bulge there. I inhale sharply. "Do you know what it means, Mulder?" You are breathing heavily. "It means that maybe I've been lusting after you for four years. And that maybe I love you and don't wish to see you hurt." 

My hand on your bulge is beginning to shake and sweat. It's been so long... and you, Alex, are so darkly handsome, and I want... your groin begins to grow hot and move even more. I cannot breathe. Alex, I... 

"Or, Mulder." You throw my hand off quickly. "It means I feel a _deep_ pleasure every time I kill." There is a gleam in your eye as you grin at me and walk slowly away. 

Leaving me here, stunned. 

Alone, on the ground, in a farm, with no one around for miles. 

I've just had my mind fucked _again_ , by you, Alex Krycek. 

You, my _friend_ , are _truly_ beyond redemption. 

end... 

* * *

Date written: August 1999   
Feedback: please—[email removed]   
Rating: R for M/M interaction, bad language and violence.   
Spoilers: Up to One Son   
Summary: My answer to Ter/Ma's July/August challenge. The one about the pretty picture with the spiderweb and the old barn.   
Can also be found at my website <http://i.am/wickedcherub>   
Disclaimer: Not mine, but everyone else is using them too...:p   
I would say thankyou to a beta tester, but I couldn't be bothered getting it tested this time. So every single little teeny mistake is mine. All mine. :)   
---


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